Parenthood isn’t genetic
present
Miranda is out with her realtor looking at a house. She took the kids with her, which was considerate given they’ll live with her half the time according to the new custody arrangement my lawyer is working on. Miranda’s committed to staying in this neighborhood to make things easier for everyone, which shocked the hell out of me, but I’m thankful. So thankful. My lawyer wants to make sure that happens before we finalize the paperwork. We already have Miranda’s written agreement to modify custody to joint. It’s just the details we’re waiting on now.
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. The apartment is too quiet. I don’t like being here alone without the kids, it’s almost terror inducing because my mind reverts to the months they were gone. I don’t ever want to go through that again.
A knock on the door saves me from myself.
When I open the door, I want to close it immediately.
“Seamus.” There’s an odd combination of formality and friendliness in his voice. The friendliness seems out of place.
I meet it with formality. “Loren.”
“I know this is unexpected.” He looks pale, thinner than he was weeks ago.
I nod. “I assume you’re looking for Miranda. She’s not here. She’ll be back later this afternoon.”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to you.” I can’t read his voice, but the look in his eyes is regret.
“Okay.” I sound confused. I am confused. Very confused. “Come in.”
He sits down on the couch and sets his leather briefcase on the floor next to him. He looks out of place. His eyes are darting around the room taking in everything. He’s judging me, I can feel it. Fuck him and his superior attitude.
“Seamus, I’m going to get right to the point.” I feel like I’m being talked to by administration at work. It’s the tone taken by those in a position of authority when they have to deliver bad news, and they’ve already divided themselves from the emotional aspect of it and are going in as a spokesperson only, not a supporter.
“I’d appreciate that,” I offer. I wish he would just spit it out. He’s making me nervous now.
He clears his throat and sets his briefcase on the coffee table, unlatching the lid while he says, “Please sit down.” He looks at me and his eyes tell me he’s not messing around, that this is serious.
“I’ll stand,” I counter. I want to sit now, but my stubborn streak has just been issued a formal challenge.
He looks down like he’s displeased with my decision. “Very well. I’ll begin. I had a massive heart attack days after Miranda left. Triple bypass surgery to put the pieces back together immediately followed. They tell me I’m extremely lucky to be alive.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why I said it, he didn’t pause his story looking for a reaction; I guess I just felt it needed to be said.
He nods. “Thank you. Coming that close to death led me to a re-evaluate my life and my priorities. I’m selling my business and retiring. I’m selling my home to travel the world to see all of the places I never allowed myself time to visit. Hopefully, I’ll find somewhere that suits me, and I’ll settle down there.”
“Okay. No offense, but I don’t understand why you came all the way to California to tell me this.” I’m not trying to be rude, but this doesn’t make any sense. This is a conversation you have with friends or family, I’m neither.
“I have something that’s yours, and I need to make that right before I leave.” There’s compassion in his eyes.
Now I’m nervous again. “What?” It’s the only thing I can say. My brain won’t come up with anything else.
He looks me in the eye, and I’m in no way prepared to hear what comes out of his mouth. “I’m Kira’s father.”
What? I don’t know if I’m thinking the word, or if I said it out loud, but it’s echoing inside my skull. He was right, I need to sit down. I take a seat on the couch next to him, and my head drops into my hands. This cannot be happening. “Please tell me this is a cruel joke,” I say from behind my hands.
“I’m sorry, Seamus. I knew Miranda would never tell you, but I felt you had the right to know. And as I said before, I need to make this right.”
I huff out a disgusted laugh. “Right? Right? How in the hell are you going to make this right? Kira is my daughter. I love that little girl with everything in me.” Tears are blotting my eyes as my thoughts race, and this conversation takes a nosedive into an abyss.
“I know you do. And you’re correct, she is your daughter. I may be responsible for half of her genetic make-up, but you are her father and always have been.” He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a stack of papers. “I know that your name is already on her birth certificate, but there was a test done that established paternity. I would like to complete this official adoption paperwork, just in case Miranda ever tries to take her away from you. Miranda can be quite conniving, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I could’ve done something to protect Kira and didn’t. I want to leave knowing she’s yours, once and for all.”
I don’t know whether that was a callous or a considerate thing for him to do. I’m still talking into my hands. “How long have you known? How long has Miranda known?”
“We’ve both known since she discovered she was pregnant. The paternity test was done at birth.” He sounds truly apologetic.
“What the fuck?” I’m whispering. I’m talking to me. I’m talking to him. I’m talking to Miranda, even though she’s not here. I’m talking to a God I’m not sure I believe in because he wouldn’t let shit like this happen. Loren leaves me to wallow in my shock induced silence for several minutes. When I finally look at him, I ask him point blank, “What do you want? You must want something, what is it?”
“I want to die with a clear conscience. I’ve done so many things I regret. So many things I can’t change. So many things I can’t make right. This is one that I can. Kira deserves to be yours in every way possible. You are her father and a far better man than I. I never intended to bring a child into this world, Seamus, but she’s a beautiful child, and that is solely thanks to your hand in raising her. I want you to finish that job unhindered.”
So many questions, I have so many questions, but my mind can’t put the words together properly to articulate them. “Do you want Kira to know about you?”
He shakes his head. “No. She loves you. Not that her knowing about me would change that, but I don’t want anything to complicate your relationship with her.”
I look at the papers on the table. “So, I sign these, and you walk away, and we never hear from you again?” I ask.
He nods and the look in his eyes is sincere, a father talking to a father. “Yes.”
“What if Kira finds out someday? Miranda has a big mouth. What if she wants to get to know you? Or what if there’s a health issue and we need information from you?”
“You or Kira can always contact me if that sort of need arises. But, if the need never arises, I would prefer she never know.”
I want to call him a deadbeat father, because who does this? Who lets someone else raise their child and doesn’t get involved? But then I think about the kids I’ve counseled over the years; the kids who had parents who didn’t want them or mistreated them; or the kids who were raised by guardians other than their parents who loved them fiercely and guided them into adulthood successfully and gracefully. Parenthood isn’t genetic, it’s about commitment and love. Period. I look him in the eye before I sign the papers. “Kira’s always been mine in my heart. This paperwork doesn’t change that.”
He nods. “I know that, Seamus. And thank you.”
“I’d like to have my lawyer review these before I sign them.” I’m never signing anything again without my lawyer’s blessing.
“I expected that you would. Overnight them to my office when the review is complete.”
“I’ll have them back to you in a few days if he’s satisfied, or call with questions if he’s not.”
“Of course, I’m always available by cell phone. My number is in the documents.”
“Thank you.”
We shake hands.
And he leaves.
My mind is full of questions. How did I not know? Why did Miranda hide this? What would Kira think if she knew? But the one thing that rises above it all isn’t a question at all, it’s an absolute: I love Kira. Because more than anything else that’s what matters. Am I angry? Hell yes. Do I feel betrayed? Beyond belief. But, more than that I love my little girl.
The wait for them to return is long, not in a matter of minutes, but in heartbeats. Because each one reminds me of my anger. I feel it pulsing along in my bloodstream. Each time it constricts I tick off another thing about Miranda that disgusts me. It’s a cause and effect. One leads to the next, leads to the next, and before I know it I’m thinking about things I haven’t thought of in years. Things I’d put behind me are heat in my veins again.
When the door finally opens, I hug each of my kids to absorb some calm. And I vow someday very soon to get answers from Miranda, someday after the adoption is finalized and she can’t meddle.